Stars
by whoneedsusernames
Summary: Laea closed her eyes, feeling detached from the scene which played out around her like a rerun of some crappy horror film. She was simply an audience, a casual observer of her own death.... short look on jace before clary through eyes of new character. R


Laea closed her eyes, feeling detached from the scene which played out around her like a rerun of some crappy horror film.

She was simply an audience, a casual observer of her own death.

A stone dug painfully into her arm, and she shifted her shoulder, a small movement which sent her into a daze, grey dots blurring her already weak vision.

She could actually feel the blood leaving her body, pouring from her almost eagerly in time to the beat of her heart.

Thump, _thump._ Thump, _thump._

But that beat was slowing.

Laea was unconcerned, now.

For a time, she had struggled, but the futility of her efforts had made her feel ridiculous and foolish.

Now as she stared up into the sky, she only wished she could see the stars.

Or Jace Wayland.

She remembered the first time she'd seen him.

A stroll down Central Park turned into a nightmare by the fevered and confused vampire who'd ambushed a nearby mundie.

Laea had not considered calling for help, and she had also not considered ignoring the situation.

Though her Faerie blood ran strong, Laea could always feel the tug of her father's mortal genes, passed on to her, to the horror of her family.

She had never actually met her father, her mother's family having expressly been against any such reminder of her own human streak.

For all she knew, this mortal could be her cousin, her uncle.

So Laea hadn't thought.

She'd drawn her knife and jumped.

Vampires can be formidable foes, but in a scuffle with a faerie, they are hopeless.

Not bothering to wonder why it had attacked, Laea had fended it off, slashing at it rapidly with her blade.

It was dispatched in seconds, and Laea was kneeling on the wet grass, irritated about the torn hem of her coat, beside the mortal.

He was breathing, but he had been bitten.

Laea had groaned in irritation, and leant down, allowing her long curls to shield the man's face from the view of passers by.

Hopefully, it would simply look as though they were embracing, Laea thought, and she began to suck the blood from the wound, loathing its metallic taste on her tongue.

Vampirism mildly amused Laea, especially since she'd heard of AIDS. Both were looked upon with disgust by their respective worlds, both were passed through the blood.

And both led to death.

Laea spat a mouthful of the blood onto the grass beside her, wiping her mouth in a gesture which could only be described as 'human'.

Then she bent down again, glad to feel the man groan in pain beneath her; it meant he was alive.

His blood still tasted contaminated, Laea thought regretfully, once more sucking at the puncture marks on his neck. That meant the tiresome process would have to be repeated again and again.

It was cut off abruptly.

Suddenly, something whipped around, slicing through Laea's cheek with deadly precision.

Irritated but not yet concerned, Laea rolled away from the man.

"Good evening," a sardonic voice droned into the night while Laea gingerly touched her wound, "feeling peckish, were we? Got a case of the muchies? I sympathise. I myself have a case of the irrits, which usually makes me more likely to stab people, you understand?"

Laea looked up slowly, ignoring the sharp point piercing her neck, and met a pair of arrogant gold eyes.

"You," she said slowly, "have incredibly bad manners, mortal."

The boy gave a lazy grin, "don't like being interrupted while you're eating, then? My apologies."

Laea laughed out loud.

He thought she was a vampire.

"Idiot," she snapped, "you think I'm a child of the night?"

The boy shrugged, "I could possibly be wrong. You could be an innocent civilian, just going about her business, rudely interrupted during her routine blood bath in Central park."

Laea took a deep breath, noting the swirling black marks snaking around the boy's arms.

Shadowhunters had to be dealt with carefully.

"My name," she said slowly, "is Laea. I am no vampire. The vampire you seek was just dispatched. By myself. I was in the process of saving this man when you interrupted."

Laea clenched her fists, feeling her faerie temper rising fast.

The boy smiled again, "my name," he began in an exaggerated version of her own tone, "is Jace Wayland. I am no idiot. The vampire I seek is kneeling before me in the grass, right now, and is just about to explode with the effort of keeping her temper. I was in the process of completing a midnight walk when you distracted me."

Laea forced a tight smile, "are you truly so stupid, or are you making a special effort for me?"

Jace laughed, "you've broken the treaty," he said, as though this amused him, "and now you must die."

Laea raised an eyebrow, "shadowhunter, remove your stele before I remove it for you."

Jace rolled his eyes, "goodbye." He said finally, "it was interesting chatting with……"

Laea twisted around out of his range, easily dodging his hurried thrust at her heart.

She waited for him to gape in astonishment, but Jace Wayland was not the sort of person to gape.

He grinned, relishing the fight, and threw a vial of holy water at her.

A tiny part of Laea, the demon part, writhed in pain, but it was drowned out by the outrage every other part of her radiated.

"My coat!" she hissed, "I might've let you go before, shadowhunter, but now…….."

Now Jace looked surprised, literally shell-shocked as Laea approached him.

"Wait," he said finally, and Laea stopped, mainly because he was not begging, "so you're really not a vampire?"

Laea hated idiotic questions, "oh, I'm a vampire," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "your holy water is just expired, that's all."

Jace's mouth quirked into a brief smile.

"What are you?" he asked softly.

Laea's eyes widened. Such a question was rude, a breach of etiquette in her opinion.

But she answered, possibly because he looked so charming standing before her, shirt torn open where her dagger had sliced his chest, head cocked to the side in curiosity.

"Half fae." She said, tone clipped.

Something flickered in Jace's eyes, and Laea laughed on the inside.

"Shadowhunter." Jace said, indicating himself with a mocking half bow.

Laea sniffed, looking him up and down with contempt, "mortal."

Jace's eyes gleamed, "enchanted.." he said suggestively, winking.

Now Laea laughed out loud.

Shadowhunters were often put off by the strange beauty of full blooded Faeries, and bored by mundanes, but Laea had inherited the best of both worlds.

Possessing the long, slender figure of her mother's side, she also had a fully human appearance.

She had no wings, and all her limbs were entirely 'normal'. Her skin was clear and too pale to be seen as mortal, but her hair was a natural shade of golden blonde and fell prettily past her waist.

She appeared to be about sixteen, which was appropriate considering it was her age.

She dressed in human clothes, could appear human when the need arose, but she had an aura of the feral about her which ironically drew mortals and shadowhunters like moths to a flame.

They would often back off when they saw her eyes.

Silver is, after all, a disconcerting colour when framing a pupil.

She showed these eyes to Jace now, allowing him to take them in fully while she smiled wickedly.

To his credit, he did not flinch, merely grinned slowly, as though amused.

"pretty," was his only comment, and delivered with such nonchalance that Laea had wanted to slap him.

Instead, she employed her own talent for disdain. She looked him up and down, slowly, carefully, allowing her eyes to travel over every last aspect of his appearance with a bored scrutiny which should leave him squirming.

Finally, she looked up to meet his eyes.

"Not interested," she delivered evenly, spinning on her heel and gliding gracefully away,

"And don't kill the human," she called back to him, "he's clean."

She caught a brief glimpse of Jace Wayland bending over the prone figure of the unfortunate mortal, and then she was gone.

…………….

Taki's was often crowded, but Laea preferred it as such.

More people meant less opportunity for conversation, and she was not interested in conversing with the present clientele.

The chair beside her scooted out. When it was tucked back in again, a man was sitting in it as though he'd been there all along.

"Raphael." Laea intoned boredly.

"Hello." The vampire grinned briefly, then his attractive face darkened, "you killed one of mine."

Laea shrugged, "well," she said, unapologetic, "he was killing a mortal."

Raphael's eyes gleamed, "and it was not your place to punish him."

Laea smiled, "yes, this lesson was drummed into me quite thoroughly. I almost died."

Raphael looked interested, "you? Almost killed by Liam? Surely not."

Laea tilted back her head and laughed, "not by the vampire. Not by your 'Liam'. A shadowhunter. Seemed to think I was the culprit. Attacked me with his magic stick and acted superior when I told him I was not a vampire"

Raphael raised his eyebrows, "how amusing." He said boredly, "but, Laea, be forewarned, if you try a stunt such as that again, Leona swears she will gut you."

Laea shrugged, unconcerned to the extreme. Leona, the beautiful veteran matriach of Hotel duMort vampires, did not scare her.

Still staring ahead as she sipped her drink, Laea did not see Raphael leave, so much as feel it.

She was glad.

Solitude suited her well enough when she was in such a mood.

Melancholy rarely mixed with company.

"Hello, oh disinterested Laea. I was wondering if I could _interest_ you in a drink."

Laea sighed.

"Wayland. So ill bred of you to approach me. After all, I might suck your blood."

Jace pulled out Raphael's recently vacated chair, "unlikely" he said easily, "how are you?"

"Irritated with being talked to by numerous, tedious, idiotic, over confident, self important……."

"I think I should buy you a drink. To apologise."

Laea's eyes narrowed, "I already have a drink. See this liquid substance I'm sipping from? It qualifies."

Jace shrugged, "I was going to offer some blood type O, but if you aren't interested by that……."

"I prefer blood type AB."

"Ah, finally something in common!" Jace threw his hands in the air. One of them came down around Laea's chair, encircling her back "a match made in heaven."

Laea removed his arm none too gently, "I have never been to heaven," she said darkly, "why don't you try hell?"

Jace laughed, "been there, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Shall we compromise and say 'a match made in Central Park'?"

Laea frowned, "no. Central Park is hardly a good place to start a relationship. What does it predict for the future? Regular muggings and petrified dog turds?"

"Hobos and old syringes." Jace suggested, smiled crookedly.

"Litter and rabid squirrels."

"Half breeds." Jace quipped, mock disapprovingly.

Laea allowed herself to laugh, and Jace joined in, both hands now placed before him on the table.

"Jace?"

Laea turned around.

A beautiful boy stood behind her chair, face fixed in a fake looking smile, even as his eyes betrayed irritation, "your order's up."

Jace smiled, "thankyou, waitress. I would also like another straw, if that's ok, and can you tell me where the restrooms are? Don't act like a wanker, Alec, just get them to bring it over here."

The boy called Alec flushed, "it's on _our_ table, if you care to join us."

He glared at Laea as he said this last, before weaving back through the sea of tables and chairs.

Laea stared after him, perplexed.

Jace had grinned.

"Alec is………clingy, at the moment." He explained, and Laea wondered at the density of boys.

"Ah." She said, noncommittally. It was not up to her to inform Jace of his friend's infatuation. Besides, it looked to be an amusing spectacle, the kind her malicious faerie blood loved to witness.

She'd wondered briefly what it would be like to _really_ care about Jace, but her thoughts were interrupted by their subject's hand encircling her wrist.

"Hey, you know, I am sorry I mistook you for a vampire last night," he whispered in her ear, "it would have been a pity if I'd killed you."

Laea smiled, staring at the tabletop as she fingered her glass with her free hand. Jace traced circles on her palm.

"You know what I can't stand," she'd said liltingly. Jace had murmured the obligatory query, "arrogance."

Laea looked her companion in the eyes as she spat the last word, and Jace smiled.

"How do you live with yourself?" he'd asked.

It had been fun, for a while.

Laea would wait for him at their place in Central Park each Friday night. Some time around 11o'clock, Jace would appear, grinning like a maniac

A charming maniac.

She never invited him into the Faerie realm, and she was not taken back to his home, but it was fun, living between the two.

With each other, they could escape from their lives.

With each other, they could relax.

Laea had considered the foolishness of their relationship, but being rather detached, like Jace, it didn't really worry her all that much.

All she really cared about was the release she felt when she saw him walking towards her.

She didn't need to be on her guard, or put on an act, she could simply make some cutting remark, and be met with a biting response, and then lose herself in his eyes.

"Gold and Silver," Jace had said once, "perfect. Don't know why I didn't think of it earlier."

He thought like she did, Laea believed. Their humour was the same, their wit almost on par. The conversations they had were so perfect they might have been scripted, each remark prompted a smile, each statement, however nonchalantly uttered, encouraged a laugh.

Laea didn't love Jace Wayland, but she loved to be around him.

He'd missed their last rendezvous, with no explanation, and she'd been surprised by her own concern.

But she'd seen him the next day at one of Magnus's parties, his hand clamped down on the arm of some pretty red-headed girl who resembled him slightly, despite the aura of awkwardness that surrounded her.

He had not seen her, but Laea had not minded, instead standing with Raphael and his crew for most of the night.

Seeing him with the red haired girl had left Laea with no doubts that it was over between them. She'd found that sad, but not devastating.

She saw no point in clinging to someone who cared for another.

It was demeaning and reeked of self-pity.

Besides that, she did not love Jace Wayland, he merely brought her comfort, and she was sure she could find that with another.

Raphael, perhaps.

She would allow Jace to pursue his red-head, and she was waiting to tell him that in their usual spot at their usual time (still unsure as to whether he'd show up) when she'd felt something black take over her.

She'd turned to fight it, ready for anything, when she'd seen a gaping void of nothing surrounding her.

And suddenly she was trapped, caught in a space too small for her to move in, cramped in from all sides.

She hated small spaces.

The blackness was cloying and suffocating, and she clawed at the nothingness, but could not break through.

Gagging and crying, Laea tried to kick out, but her movements were sluggish, restricted,

And through it all, a soft voice intoned.

"How old are you?"

She stammered out her answer, gasping for air.

The faceless voice seemed pleased.

"Good." He said, and then Laea felt a stinging pain in her neck and then her wrists,

"Jace, it has been fun, but it is time to move on. You belong with the girl. Raphael says she is called 'Clary'. I can see that you are holding yourself back from her, but you must not be afraid to show her you care. You are no coward, Wayland, so don't act like one. You belong with Clary, Jace. I wish you well. Don't go attacking any more faeries, now, you understand? They're not all as sweet as I am."

That is what Laea would have said, had she been able to see Jace once more.

But it was unlikely that she would.

Laea could easily admit this now, as she felt the lethargy consume her, seeping through her bloodless limbs.

But perhaps Jace did not need her advice. He was, after all, reasonably easily distracted, and if this Clary understood him, then he would be happy.

She hoped he would be, because, for a time, he had made her happy, and she liked to think that someone would do the same for him.

Laea stared up at the sky, wishing she could see the stars.

Jace Wayland, she could give or take.

His eyes would be nice to see once more, gold against silver for the last time, but she would die either way, so the exercise would be pointless.

Someone leant over her, bending close as though moving in for a kiss, and Laea felt mildly disturbed.

But the man simply stared down at her, and she met his gaze with the last ounce of defiance she possessed.

His eyes were black. Coal black.

Blacker than anything she'd ever seen.

But somehow, they seemed familiar.

This idea troubled Laea, and so she dismissed it, her eyes once again searching the sky.

And suddenly, a breeze ruffled the trees in Central Park, where Laea had saved the life of a man she'd never seen again, and ultimately set the course for her own death, and above her, the clouds shifted, and a faint glimmer graced the sky.

Stars.

The man searched the eyes of the girl, looking for any spark of life.

Dead.

The pools of silver in the centre of her face were glazed now, less like water on a stormy day and more like shards of glass.

Empty. Blank.

Her expression troubled him.

She was smiling, most disconcerting.

He shook it from his head.

As he stood, he felt a wave of discontent.

The girl was not full faerie. She was half mortal. Would her blood be potent enough?

Taking deep breaths, he calmed himself.

Of course her blood would be potent. She had, after all, been drained completely.

If it was not enough, he reasoned, he could simply kill again.

He stood slowly, languidly, looking briefly to the building where his son had lived up until very recently.

Soon, he thought, Jace would live with him instead.

On that note, Valentine Morgenstern glanced briefly at the time and strode away, stepping over the corpse with a practised air.

He _was_ practised at this.

And by the end of his plan, he would be an expert.


End file.
